G'day Drop Bear!
Got anoterh installment of the adventures of Drop Bear and his furry friends?? ( ) I am in need of a laugh, too busy working, working, working

Fifth Seal: The Cry of the Martyrs

The Fifth Seal had been broken.

“And do you fully realize how GROSS has done you wrong?” shouted Cotal, fist raised dramatically. Dropbear rolled his soft, expressive green eyes, and thought ‘that was unconvincing’.

Yet, the gathered crowd of simple farmers (with the accent heavily on ‘simple’) whooped and hollered. Hate filled their simple eyes. “Yes, yes, we been wronged” said one simple individual. “We been nice and cheery, but they like, done us wrong”. The crowd of them hooted and made raspberries for some long, long minutes. The cry of “Lit’s git Ponshush” went up soon after.

After the mob of simple farmers had left for the dock, flaming torches in their simple hands, Cotal wept into her handkerchief. “That was so, so, so…evil” she said. “I am forever stained”.

Dropbear looked at her askance.

“You know it had to be done. One way or another, we shall get to the top. If it means climbing over the other dead empires, so be it. We didn’t first draw the line in the sand. We didn’t first kick sand in the face. We didn’t…well you get the idea. Granted, it’s not a job that any of us enjoy. But it is our birth right to have a place in the sun, a place where our children and their children can grow unmolested, free to reach their spiritual heights. Free to drink wine, and I suppose beer. Free to be, all that they can be. This is my dream. This is your dream. This is Our Dream. This is what it means to stand tall and say, ‘I am an ANZAC’.”

Tired, yet fulfilled, he waddled to the door, and left, contemplatively.

Thanks you!! That combined withs some Eve's Plum has lifted my mood!

Sixth Seal: Cosmic Upheavals

Part 1

The meeting was stunned.

“Do any of you doubt?” queried Dropbear.
Slitherin’s scaled face was pale: “Then that means…?”
“Exactly” said Dropbear, tapping the overhead video screen lightly with the prod. All eyes went to the frozen video picture, which quickly rewound and then moved forward. The moment in time when reality seemed to change was shown again. The video screen went blank.

Space Wombat trotted to the podium. “We have been a Ship of Fools” he started. The gathered crowd murmured threateningly. However, Wombie had once been a school teacher and knew how to stare down an unruly classroom of teenagers: this crowd was absolutely no bother to him. When the gathering had cringed back in fear, he continued. “Occam’s razor tells us that there is only one likely explanation: the Pirates have found an ancient fairy relic. Of-course, they may have stumbled upon an Old Republic machine of insurmountable power, or may have come across a devilish space-time continuum with unimaginable power. These are but mere details.”

“Or they just play more Galciv?” said one Galah at the back of the room. The crowd tittered, and Wombie rolled his eyes.

Wombie continued: “This explains how every mission has failed”. Wombie ticked off the impressive list of 128 missions, which ended with the exploding sheep, the hairy and shaved-arse dropbears, Slitherin's sandgroper’s gambit, and the current ongoing top-secret missions of Plan 129.
“We have seen them succeed”, he agonized “and then, amazingly, history is re-written and the Pirates are back on top! On another note, we have seen the Wizards, and the simple farmers and the Undead (they all shuddered) claw their way to the middle pedestal, and then what happens? A different reality is made! But we know what is real and right! In the real Universe the ANZACs are on top. In the real Universe we are trash-talking. In the real Universe we are despised by the MWC. In the real Universe we are cock-o-the-walk….”

“Ahem” Dropbear said, as he realized Wombie was warming a little too much to his hyperbole.

Wombie blushed. “Yes, well, we have the situation in paw. Meeting dismissed”. A few prods with the electric prods cleared the room efficiently and the Inner Circle gathered, leaderless. “Now, we first need to elect a leader. Who last shouted the round?” asked Wombie.

Ahhh Chris...absolutely fabulous! And Hurley - unstoppable, man - great work. Look, I think we need to refresh - I mean, if David Bowie can reinvent himself every few years, why can't we? I would just like to continue with the bunch of people we have here, in whatever form it takes. WTF - great initials, but we need a catchy label to go with the initials. The Endorphins - not bad (do all us ancients remember alternative rock groups?). I mentioned "The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen" before - the movie premise is legendary adventurers gather - we could have anything from Sinbad, to Sherlock Holmes to Indiana Jones etc; great for character roleplay. Keep thinking!

I just thought of the Instrumentality of Mankind.

Please tell me someone has read Cordwainer Smith? Especially Norstrilia or the Rediscovery of Man (both recently re-issued)? Norstilia is a planet in that series of stories (short for Old North Australia). But the stories cover a lot of weird stuff.

The blurb for RofM says:

The strangest future imagined by any SF writer... An interstellar empire ruled by the Lords of the Instrumentality, whose access to the drug stroon from the planet Norstrilia confers on them virtual immortality. A future in which wealthy humanity is served by the underpeople, genetically engineered animals turned into the semblence of people. A future in which great ships sail the stars. A future of wonder and myth, and extraordinary imagination.

Well, the blurb writer got carried away there at the end, but what do you think?

Part 2

The transistors and tubes had finally warmed up.

Dropbear nursed his pinot whilst looking on. Electricity flashed between the electricity thingies. Dropbear didn’t fully understand the physics of it, but Wombie had once been an electrical engineer and astrophysicist and was quite adept with a screwdriver and pliers. The chugging engine was powered by one of the Rings of Power of-course.

“Shall we try it Wombie?”.
Wombie’s large expressive nose wrinkled, as he applied the last of the masking tape. “If it works we too shall have a space-time continuum machine which will take us to the Right Reality. Let’s see…”. With a flick of his bandaged paw, the final red switch was flicked.

A kaleidoscope of colours swirled, and then, within a moment, formed a picture. The mates hooted and settled down to watch. Worlds flashed by.
Flash
A room of odd men sat around bickering. A blue circle of stars on the wall behind them. “Order, order” said one, “Belgium has the floor”. The other man stood, and said: “Now that Belgium rules the Galaxy things are going to change around here…”
Flash
A gathering of simple farmers was at a bush dance: the men dancing with each other, all trying to lead. A lone woman was staring with horror, a smile frozen on her face, at the simple burping contest in the corner of the hall...
Flash
Pontius was skipping and twirling through the field of flowers singing, “The hills are alive with the sound of music la la la la.” KitWarrior joined in the chorus…
Flash
Novice wizards and elfin maids were in a classroom. The quiet administrator at the front slammed his wand on the table. “No, no, no”. He looked both frustrated and calm. “A story is like a tale, you tell it in chapters… Tom B get your feet off your table now and tidy up your desk…”
Flash
The ghouls and liches and shuffling Undead, were everywhere. Their American accents were nasal. A group of the Undead were studying a dictionary: “Humour” said the senior. They looked at each other blankly. The senior scratched the word out. “Laughter”. They looked at each other blankly. The senior scratched the word out. “Fraternity”. The group stirred. The senior looked at the word again “Um, fraternity with un-Undead”. They looked at each other blankly. The senior scratched…
Flash
People milled around with no apparent purpose. Each had a name-tag clipped to their shirt with an unintelligible name carefully printed. Two men jostled. "Excuse me Yar-Kidding Surely", said one. "That is alright and fine, ah", the other stooped to look at the name-tag. "Maximus...A minute of your time sir, that can not be a real name...What sort of name can that be you villain?". "Oh no. I am discovered", said Maximus. The men swept out their light sabers and...

Wombie and Dropbear looked at each other, their hair on end. “Were they Universes that have been, or are, or will be?” asked Wombie. Dropbear gave a worried shrug. “They’re all horrible. We have to keep looking”. The transistors and tubes and electricity thingies glowed well into that night.

Hmm, yes I have read how about a local author? Say Terry Dowling, who lives in Sydney. Wrote a great set of stories set in a far distant Australia with a weaving of myth, technology, etc. To quote the blurb on the back of the re-issued Rynosseros - "Visit a future where terraforming, genetic engineering and formidable mental scuiences are commonplace, and tribal satelites look down on unending wars...". And the main character in the stories is a captain of a ship!

Yes I have read it, whtought it was OK but prefferred Terry .

Hmm, do we need a patron author the the WTFs?

Oh great Slitherin, you are completely correct. Please accept my humble apologies. (I would like to claim as an excuse the recent different style game I just played has addled my brain, but age will do.)

Grovel, grovel.

One extra or two???

Oh Hurley, they sparkle.

Thanks Drop Bear. Tell you what my eyes don't after staring at the screen and my throat is sore from cursing the Drengin!

[the camera rises from the valley, pans out, and a pirate figure twirls into focus]

“With songs they have sung for a thousand years
The hills fill my heart with the sound of music
My heart wants to sing every song it hears
My heart wants to beat like the wings of the birds that rise from the lake to the trees
My heart wants to sigh like a chime that flies from a church on a breeze
To laugh like a brook when it trips and falls over stones on its way
To sing through the night like a lark who is learning to pray”

I believe I should have the lead.

[Kit blinks twice as he becomes aware of his surroundings]

Um...

[he high tails it into the woods]

Geez...rub it in, ya bastard! That doesn't go with that 'Very Good' smiley, ya know! Great work from both of you - Slitherin v. Hurley: Clash of the Titans.

Chris: I've read a lot of SF but unfortunately NOT Cordwainer Smith (have heard of him though!), although Instrumentality of Mankind has a haunting quality that I like - will everyone else get it though? (And can you pass on some titles in that series so I can check it out?) I take Slitherin's point, although the most important thing is that WE'RE happy with it - it gives us something to fight for and have fun with. Keep tossing stuff up - it'll happen (and talking about it is fun too).

And somebody go tell Pontius that one of his pirates is having a crisis - a pirate singing the Sound of Music - he'll be doing Broadway tunes next.......

Wombie, Cordwainer is hard to classify: he wrote in the fifties and sixties, and yet his stories are still futuristic in a modern sense. He was an American but spent a lot of time in China before the WWII. His plots do take strange twists.

Um, the reissues which I picked up again recently are literally: Norstrilia (ibooks) and The Rediscovery of Man (Millenium). The latter is short stories with super titles like: Scanners Live in Vain; The Dead Lady of Clown Town; Mother Hitton's Littul Kittons; and The Ballad of Lost C'mell. Sigh. Anways, LeGuin likes his work.

Other concepts:
The Coalition of the Willing
The Empire of Man
Former British Possessions
The Evil Empire

*shakes head*

Now the penny drops...Scanners Live in Vain was actually made into a movie, if I recall - just called "Scanners", I remember that one. And if Ursula K. LeGuin likes him - he's probably pretty good!

Let me add some random thoughts to the list:

Horsemen Of The ApocalypSe (HOTAS)

The Voodoo Gods
The Trojan Horsemen
Blade Runners
The Velvet Underground (!)

Something else mythological? Olympians? Titans? The Argonauts?

I'm working on the WTF combos...

Don't worry - it'll come....

Um...sorry to interupt....but I thought you'd like to know that one of your warriors is singing show tunes in our thread....it's not pretty......

Poof
Oh really? Then I guess I should.

"Start spreadin the news...
I'm leavin today...
I want to be a part of it... New York, New York...
.... If I could, Make it there I'd make it...Anywhere its up to you... New York... New York......."

"Do a dear a female dear, Re, a drop of golden son. Mi a word, I call myself. Yeah fa............Which brings us back to do"

The aussie women. "Oh such range, what a voice and cute too. Bye bye anzacs.... We're becoming groupies" OOOOOOOOOo


Oh If I were a rich man budda bidda bidda didda didda deeda beetld dum. All day long I'd diddle diddle dum. If I were a wealthy man.

The Aussie women join in. "Sunrise Sunset. Sunrise Sunset. Swiftly flow the years."


Drop bear: "Ohhhhhh Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuudddddddddge" (and it wasn't fudge)

Wombat: Say what you want the man has pipes.

Drop bear: Wombat, I've just about had enough of that mess. I'm the leader here (Scratch Scratch,claw)

Slithern: Whoa there DB, aren't we the laid back aussie's.

Drop Bear: YOu want a piece of me too snake boy?

Slitherin: It's a house from.....

Drop Bear: I DON'T CARE WHAT IT IS... fWUMP (Drop Bear practices his name sake on the poor hapless sliterin

Hurley: Oh look at my medals. I should be leader. (a big mistake given the above) No sooner did he say that than fwump, the second drop bear drop of the day. Poor Hurley Hurls his lunch as he's crushed.
Drop Bear: Ohhh so that's why they call you Hurley.


Poof. Pontius leaves with the shelas (and the betty's Penelope's, Tina's and the other women too) hanging at his side. "Comeon ladies, there's a place where you can hear my show tunes 24/7. It's called the Galactic Mustang Ranch. I'll take you there now.
OHHHHHH YES YES YESSSSSS!!! Shout the ladies. We get to work at the ranch.....

Drop Bear: OK that's gr8 now we're stuck mmorpging in the bedroom tonight dreaming our wives look like these women Pontius just took. Of course mine dreams of Pontius, so I guess it's even. CURSE YOU PIRATES. CURSE YOU ALL!!!!!


Meanwhile back home the Anzac's wives, upon seeing their hubbies/bf's for the first time in a long time are thinking. That shipload of Beer we gave the Pontius one to get our hubbies/boyfriends back to us was well worth it.



[Message Edited]

Part 3

Dropbear and Wombie looked at each other, perplexed. Wombie cocked his fist and banged the glowing mass of transistors and tubes and electricity thingies, until their light changed to a reassuring red glow. The Universe in which the pirate Pontius was a showtune-singing stud of a dude disappeared with a flash and a crackle.

"Truly", said Dropbear, pale with amazement, "Fiction is stranger than fact". Wombie nodded, and wiped his brow, shakily.

Part 4

They eyeballed each other across the table.

“Everley Brothers”, said Dropbear.
“Brenda Lee”, said KitWarrior.
“Connie Francis”.
“Brian Hyland”.
“Chubber Checker”.
“Sonny & Cher”.
“Eric Clapton”.
“Sinead O'Connor”.
“Bobby Rydell”, whimpered Dropbear.
KitWarrior paused dramatically, and then said “Percy Faith”.

Dropbear glanced at Wombie who nodded. Dropbear sighed. It was another drawn competition.

Ten hours later the Skowbo swamp bar was humming. Saturday night had arrived and turned into Sunday morning. Dropbear paced the bar, before the intent audience. He pursed his lips and said in a flat voice, with no hint of a tune:

“She climbs a tree and scrapes her knee
Her dress has got a tear
She waltzes on her way to Mass
And whistles on the stair
And underneath her wimple
She has curlers in her hair
I even heard her singing in the abbey”

KitWarrior looked perplexed for a second and then chuckled. He sang, in perfect key, his manly voice bringing unique nuances to the lyrics:

“How do you solve a problem like Maria?
How do you catch a cloud and pin it down?
How do you find a word that means Maria?
A flibbertijibbet! A will-o'-the wisp! A clown!”

Dropbear pulled his hair in exasperation.
Wombie was red-eyed and weary. He listlessly added up the points and glanced at the competitors: “Yep. Another draw.”

Some time later the boys could only whisper.
“All About Eve” murmured Dropbear.
“Mmmm. An American in Paris”.
Dropbear groaned: “The Greatest Show on Earth”.
KitWarrior grinned, and declared “From Here to Eternity”.

Dropbear put his head in his hands. His head was throbbing with frustration. Yet, Dropbear’s resolve stiffened. For he was not one to admit defeat. He had reached the heights and seen the other side. He had fought the fight. He had bested the best, or at least some of the weak. He had proudly gone where few had gone, and angels feared to tread. He had seen the Final Frontier and returned. No pirate would bring him down before his mates! For he was an ANZAC and not to be taken lightly.

Dropbear stood tall and signaled to Wombie to come closer. “There is one final test which can decide our standing”, said Dropbear slyly. He flicked a gratuitously malicious, and yet warmly appreciative look at his tall, lithe rival. He was, after all, a complex bear.

“But not yet. Not yet, my dark and evil rival. Our final test shall begin soon”, announced Dropbear, from the pub door, as the fresh swamp breeze aired the room. He turned and left the Skowbo pub, shaken.

In this wild, wild reality called the Metaverse, your real enemy is the empire directly in front of you. And then the three other bigger fish in front of it. But I have to admit that trying to devise a method to go around all those bigger fish by changing reality was real sneaky. Of course, you can always try slowing us down a bit. But I would break out the anti-magic barriers and try to do it the old fashioned way.

Gerakken freezes, his eyes cross for a second and there are some light tremors. He starts singing: "We're off to see the wizard, the wonderful wizard of OZ!" He stops again, shakes his head like trying to recover from a spell, then wanders off, unaware of what he just did.

Wombat reaches his cave, his poor muddle head aching with the sound of badly sung movie themes. He snuffles around, preparing one of his favourite honey-and-witchety-grub snacks. "How did my assimilation virus go SO wrong? I wanted to unify the Metaverse....must be some kind of wild vector mutation in subsequent generations....I mean, SHOW TUNES!?" Wombat suddenly strikes a John Travolta pose: "Stayin' alive, stayin' alive..ha-ha-ha-ha stayin' aliiiiiiiiivvvveee!" No...must resist....that's it - because I was the first exposed in my own lab...I'm singing music from the 80's instead of the 60's and 70's...DAMN IT!"

"Must...find...antidote...need to get to the disco -I mean LAB..."

Hmm, I should have stayed as a lurker. Every time I post I just open my mouth to change feet. My apolgies for any offence Slitherin. Fair call Space Wombat, was a bit of a bastards act. Next round is on me. Bars open!

Trying to get the sound of Kool and the Gang out of his head for a few precious minutes of clear thinking, Wombat considers the initials WTF:

World of Thirsty Friends
Wild Turkeys of Freedom (of the Forest/Farmyard)
Warrior Templars of the Faithful
Wayward Troopers of the Federation

Hey - let's just be The Velvet Underground and do the music thing; rock and roll outlaws? I could metamorphose into Disco Wombat!!!

No way - I was having a gentle dig and saw no offence in your post! Join in the fun, mate - now that you've found your voice, I'd hate to lose you!

Part 5

The apologies flew around the pub, as they often did in the Skowbo swamp pub frequented by ANZACs.

"I'm sorry for that last joke".
"No don't be, I'm sorry for my previous ribbing".
"Indubitably I am sorrier, particularly for last week's stirring".
"Oh really, I'm much, much sorrier for what I implied, when I attempted to say something sarcastically..."

The room filled with mates reared back in horror.
"Attempted sarcasm?" said several in unison.
Dropbear showed Hurley the door: "I'm sorry Hurls but there is no place for such attempted light humour in this outfit".

Hurls slunk from the pub. Yet, he was an ANZAC and a rock-and-roller: he didn't give up without a good fight. And he knew his medals deserved pride of place on the pub mantelpiece, next to the dart board. With a steely resolve he sharply turned and pushed his way back into the pub, without a care, singing with rich, base tones:

Thank you miss smarty
it's been a party
You might even say
it's been a ball

At first I thought you
were sad I brought you
But things worked out well
after all

It wasn't always love and laughter
but we both come out better after
And a good time
yes, a good time

Was had by all, all, all, all

Dropbear turned, eyed Hurls' steely resolve, and stopped clippering. It looked like he would have no new mission that day.
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